


They Will Burn

by chicago_ruth



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Bondage, Enemas, F/M, Figging, Gags, Humiliation, Spanking, Watersports
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-17
Updated: 2013-06-17
Packaged: 2017-12-15 05:59:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,212
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/846105
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chicago_ruth/pseuds/chicago_ruth
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Morgana needs a little convincing to join Morgause's side. Morgause subjects her to the Dark Tower.</p>
            </blockquote>





	They Will Burn

**Author's Note:**

> This is set between seasons 2 and 3. When I saw "The Dark Tower" episode, I always figured that Morgause must have used it to brainwash Morgana.
> 
> Please heed the tags/warnings. This entire fic is non-con humiliation. If that's not your thing, click the back button now.

The first time Morgana wakes, she gasps for breath, desperate for air that she's so sure is being denied her. 

Morgause is at her side in an instant, petting her back, soothing her. It feels nice, right until Morgana _remembers_. "You. You hurt the townsfolk. You tried to hurt Arthur and Merlin and-- Get away!"

She pushes Morgause away and stumbles out of the bed, tries to run for the door, ignoring how cold the floor is beneath her bare feet. She doesn't get very far though: Morgause says something in that magical tongue, and Morgana finds herself collapsing to the floor. The nightgown she wears is thin, far too thin to protect her from the chill of the stone. It's even a little bit see-through, her nipples quite clearly visible through the fabric.

Morgause strides over and comes to a halt in front of Morgana's face, so that Morgana's vision is filled with Morgause's boots.

"We agreed, sister. Uther needs to die."

Morgana tries to shake her head, but even that movement is denied her. "Just Uther! Not the innocents. Not Gwen, not Arthur, not Merlin!"

She sees Morgause kneel, and then she feels the hand under her chin, tilting her head until she is looking Morgause straight in the eyes. Morgause's expression is extremely bland, no hint of anger, and for some reason this scares Morgana more.

"I see," Morgause says simply, followed soon after by, "Swefe."

* * *

The second time Morgana wakes, she is in a pitch black room. She tries several times to open her eyes, only to realize that they are open, and there is no light around her. She uses her hands to feel for a wall and cautiously stands up.

She walks forward with one hand against the wall and the other extended outward. She is forced to make several turns, but she can't tell if she's been going in circles or if the room she is in is large. With every step she feels the chill settle deeper into her bones; her skin tightens and forms little bumps.

After a while she is too cold to keep going. She slides down and curls into herself, her arms wrapped tight around her knees in order to keep as much of her body heat as possible. She wonders where she is, and whether she'll die of cold here.

Time passes. It's hard to tell how much, since there is no light, but Morgana starts getting the urge to piss. She's thirsty too, and thinking of water makes the need to piss even worse. She considers just going where she sits, but worries about not being able to see, about stepping in the puddle later.

No. She can hold out.

Morgana closes her eyes and starts reciting poetry to herself.

* * *

She's halfway through the third tale -- a ballad of love long lost -- when she sees the light.

It doesn't matter where it's coming from or what might be there. Morgana gets up and runs towards it. She's surprised at how long the corridor suddenly extends, but that's another thing that doesn't matter. Light means fire, and fire means warmth. She runs and runs and runs, right until she runs into Uther.

"My Lord," she says, respectful, eying the torch he holds just out of her reach. She swallows and stops herself from begging that he hand her the torch. She still has her pride.

But Uther is sneering at her. "Well, well. Looks like you're finally dressed like the sorcerous tramp you are."

The statement startles her, and Morgana looks down at herself. She's still in the nightgown she was wearing earlier, but now in the light she can see that it is completely see-through. Her nipples are peaked because of the cold, and the dark hair between her legs is a stark contrast to her pale skin.

She feels her cheeks flare up. "No. No, I didn't-- my lord, this isn't of my choosing. Please, you must believe me, I--"

Uther whistles loudly, and Morgana hears footsteps approaching. She turns to where the sound is coming from, and there is Arthur.

Oh, Arthur, darling Arthur. Morgana runs towards him and embraces him quickly. "Please, Arthur. You must help me," she says. Arthur is a good man, she knows. She has seen him help regular citizens and druids alike, and he has always supported her, and--

"How shall we punish this witch, Arthur?" Uther asks, and the words register far too late. Morgana tries to step away, but Arthur grabs her wrists tightly.

"Normally the punishment for sorcery is death by fire," Arthur says coldly, dispassionately. Morgana's eyes widen as Uther brings the torch dangerously close to her.

"No! No! Please, my lord, I beg of you!" The sudden heat against her face is terrifying, and far, far worse than the cold was. She wants the cold back, she wants to freeze to death, she doesn't want to be anywhere near flames.

Uther pulls the torch back. "Look at her cry, Arthur. In the end, even a pig-headed woman is a woman."

Morgana shakes her head, wants to deny the tears, but Arthur is still holding her tight and Uther runs a thumb down her cheek, smearing the liquid.

"Morgana needs to learn her place first," Arthur says. "A sorceress should never have eaten at the table with the King."

Arthur drags her along by the wrists, though she tries to dig her heels into the ground and all she does is scrape them bloody. She screams and curses at them, until suddenly Uther picks up her legs and she's being swung between the two of them.

"Stop! Stop! You don't know what kind of power I wield! I will kill both of you!" 

But they just laugh and swing her harder, startling another cry out of her.

She doesn't know how long they carry her, but the corridor -- brightly light with torches now -- opens up to a room with proper furniture. Morgana tries again to kick out, but to no avail.

Uther drops her legs and she falls to the floor, her knees slamming hard against the stone. She can't stop the cry that follows, and both of them laugh. She tries to will them both aflame, but nothing happens.

"Here is good, Arthur. Bring her over."

She watched as Uther sits down on the bench, and it takes her a while before she realizes what is happening: Arthur forces her to lay face down across Uther's lap, and Uther pushes her nightgown up past her buttocks.

"No! You can't! You wouldn't dare!" she yells, but of course Uther does dare. The first swat across her arse is but a sting, and yet so much worse.

Arthur ties her wrists together with leather manacles and attaches those to the edge of the bench, all while Uther is bringing his palm down across her buttocks and thighs. She tries to kick, to flail, anything to stop him, but the rhythm is unrelenting.

"Arthur, come hold her legs down," Uther says nonchalantly. 

"You will burn," Morgana promises, but they ignore her words.

Arthur does pin her legs down, and then his hand slips between them to finger her cunt while Uther keeps slapping her arse cheeks.

"She's getting wet," Arthur comments. "It figures. She _is_ a witch, after all."

Morgana doesn't know why that comment is what does it. She starts crying in earnest, and her voice dissolves into rough sobs. Her vision blurs and still Uther continues to rain blows down on her, until it feels like her skin truly is burning.

Suddenly Uther rests his hand against her arse and just caresses her, pressing down on where he'd hit her. She cries harder and shakes her head. 

"She's always been very mouthy, hasn't she," Uther suddenly says, like it's a recent observation. "Do you have the--"

Arthur gets up and lets go of her legs, but Morgana finds she doesn't have the energy to struggle anymore. Her heart is beating too fast, and she already fears whatever might come next.

Uther flips her around so she's lying face up, and again she howls in pain as her arse comes into contact with his rough breeches. She sees Uther shaking his head. "What did I just say."

One of his hands reaches up, underneath the nightgown, and squeezes a nipple. She sobs again, not even sure why because it doesn't hurt, not like the spanking did. Uther continues to play with her nipples almost absentmindedly, not even looking at her.

Then Arthur comes back, and he's holding some sort of contraption in his hands. Morgana's eyes widen as she recognizes it, and she experiences another spike of energy. She struggles as best as she can and clamps her mouth shut, but then Uther's gloved hands are squeezing the sides of her cheeks and she's forced to open up, further and further until the device slides in. Arthur ties it securely behind her head, and there is no chance to force it away.

The gag keeps her mouth wide and open, prevents her from biting or even moving her tongue. The only thing she can do is drool. She feels the tears start flowing again, but every time she sobs more drool seems to dribble out the side of her mouth.

Uther smiles. "That's better. Can't have her trying to say any spells, and now we don't need to hear her disrespect."

They can't hear it, but she's thinking it. She imagines peeling Uther's skin away, layer by layer, until he's the one begging her for mercy. She imagines Arthur slowly getting bled dry, until all he can't even moan for help. She will burn Camelot down around them if she has to, but she will, she will destroy them.

Uther sticks his fingers into her mouth and runs them around, leaving the taste of leather behind. She wants to gag, but even that seems to have been robbed from her.

"Not so headstrong now, are you, witch?" Uther mutters. He pulls his fingers out and runs them down her body again, squeezes her breast, runs a light finger over her clit, then sticks two into her cunt. She squeezes her eyes and tries to expel the fingers, but it's no use. They are like worms crawling up inside of her, digging in relentlessly.

"This might be the only way you'll be able to marry her off," Arthur says. "No man would take her otherwise."

The two of them share a chuckle, and then she hears Arthur unfasten the chain from the bench.

She bolts. Rolls off the bench and runs, but she makes it only a few steps before her arms are yanked back by the chain. Arthur is holding it tightly, and he shakes his head with disappointment clear on his face. "See what I mean, father?"

"You're right, of course. That'll warrant another punishment."

No. No. Haven't they done enough? Morgana shakes her head and tries to step backwards, but there is no give in the chain. Arthur starts pulling her towards the corner of the room, where a set of stocks is displayed prominently. The height is lower than what they have in Camelot, but the reason for that becomes clear almost immediately.

Arthur forces her head in, and both her wrists, and bolts it shut, all of her struggling for naught. It leaves her face to face with his crotch, and for the first time she notices that he's _hard_. She tries to fight the panic, but she can't keep her breathing even anymore. She wants to wake up from this nightmare.

"I don't think this is nearly enough though." Uther walks behind her, and she can't even see him now, not with the planks of the stocks in the way. The nightgown is lifted up again, until all of her backside is exposed. She feels his hand running across her thighs, lingering once again on the reddened flesh, and then his hand slips between her cheeks to run across her hole. There's no way for her to move away, and she hiccups loudly, more spit slipping out of her mouth.

He presses something wet and slippery against her, and for a moment she thinks that it's his cock -- but no, it's not anywhere near big enough.

Whatever it is is unpleasant, but somehow she keeps thinking, _it could be worse_. Uther pushes the thing inside, pushing pushing until it gets past that small ring of muscle and just _settles_.

She almost sighs in relief when it's done. She feels strange, has the automatic desire to push it out, but otherwise, it seems almost tame in comparison to everything else they've done so far.

Until the burning starts.

Her eyes widen and her thighs start shaking, and Uther is laughing again. He slaps her ass again, and it jostles the thing, and that makes the burn even worse. She keens against the sensation, tears prickling her eyes yet again.

"Look how her arse perks right up with the ginger inside," Uther says, and Arthur walks around the back to see for himself. The two of them murmur to each other, caress Morgana's thighs and back, and periodically move the _ginger_ around so that the burn flares anew.

Morgana hasn't been this humiliated in her life.

Then suddenly there's a hand on her stomach, stroking in circles, petting her, and she remembers how desperately she needed to piss earlier. _No_ , she tries to say, but it comes out as a mess of drool. _No, no, no._

The hand presses down hard on that one spot, and it's impossible to control any of her reactions anymore. Warm liquid streams out of her, down the sides of her legs, all while the two of them roar with laughter.

"Women and their weak bladders," Uther says, full of mirth. "Can't be expected to do anything right."

Morgana's head falls forward. Let them think they've defeated her. She'll get out of this. Somehow. And when she does--

"Oh, good, Merlin. You're here."

No. No. No. Morgana jerks her head up, and she stares right at Merlin. He's keeping his expression blank, not laughing at her, but not in obvious disgust either. But that… that makes sense, she tells herself. Merlin is a servant. He can't disobey Arthur and Uther.

"Clean her up, would you?"

One of them taps at the ginger again, and she bites down another sob. She doesn't want Merlin to see her like this. Merlin is the one friend she has in all of Camelot. Merlin never rejected her for her magic. 

Uther and Arthur walk back around again so she can see them. They grab chairs in front of her, both of them stroking themselves through their breeches and talking about her as if she were just an object, an item to be sold off. No. She will not allow it.

She is startled out of her rage when Merlin pulls the ginger out of her, and that's a blessed bit of relief. He starts running a cold, wet washcloth over her body, scrubbing vigorously between her legs -- to get the ginger residue off of her, she tells herself -- and then trailing up to her breasts. 

"We should get her nipples pierced," Arthur says. "Then her future husband can tie a chain to them and lead her around."

She's going to personally tie them to the stakes and set the fire. She's going to cut their eyes out, she's going to feed Uther his own tongue.

"Merlin, don't forget to clean her inside as well." Uther might as well be talking about his dogs.

She has no idea what they're talking about though, not until she feels yet another something press against her arse. She clenches to keep it out, but it goes in anyway, Merlin rubbing her thighs the entire time.

She doesn't register the sensation at first, just a sudden unpleasantness inside of her. Water. It's water, and Merlin must be using a clyster to press more and more of it inside of her. She's trembling all over again, the water is so strangely warm, and she can feel it swelling her belly.

"That’s the proper look for a woman," Arthur nods towards her. "Pregant."

She can't see it herself, but she feels it, feels her stomach distorting more and more and there are cramps, worse than anything she's ever experienced, worse even than her monthly cycle. She makes loud noises, anything to relieve the pressure, and of course that gets the two of them laughing again.

"Sounds just like a cow."

Merlin tugs on her breasts then, and she almost feels like she's being milked. 

She shakes her head but the water keeps filling her up until the only thing she knows anymore is the horrible bloated sensation. Even after the flow seems to stop she feels the water sloshing inside of her. 

Why, why, why. She wants the gag out of her mouth so she can curse them and their ancestors. She wants the gag out of her mouth so she can beg forgiveness, so she can promise to be good and swear that she'll never act out of place again.

Merlin's hands are gentle on her, but that's almost worse. He soothes her, rubs circles on her stomach and she wishes that didn't feel so good. She really is nothing more than a cow. 

"It's time to let it out," Merlin whispers, and she doesn't understand until the clyster is being pulled away.

She clenches up. She hates the water inside of her, but she doesn't want to humiliate herself anymore in front of them. She won't, she won't, she--

Merlin presses down on her stomach and rubs the tender spots on her arse, and that's it. She releases and howls her humiliation, and all she's met with is more laughter. The vile liquid clings to her legs and fouls up the room.

"Good show," Uther says, and both he and Arthur get up and leave the room.

This is Merlin's chance. 

He always helps the wronged, and Morgana turns her head as much as she can. Merlin comes around to the front and just stands for a moment. _Please_ , Morgana tries to plead with her eyes.

"Why did you have to be a sorceress?" Merlin says suddenly.

Morgana's eyes widen. He didn't say that. She must have misheard.

But Merlin pulls his cock out and slides it past the ring in her mouth. "You always thought you were better than me," he says and thrusts forward, hard, until his cock hits the back of her throat. She gags, and that seems to please him, because he does it again, and again, and again.

She closes her eyes and begs for the nightmare to end.

* * *

When Morgana wakes the third time, she's in a bed again, with Morgause sitting right next to her. She extends her arms immediately, and Morgause embraces her. 

"Shh, shh, there there, sister."

Morgana strokes her hair and whispers endearments to her. "I'm always here for you, sister. I'll protect you from those bad men."

Yes. Morgause. Morgause is on her side. 

And Uther, and Arthur, and Merlin: they will burn. Them and all of Camelot.


End file.
